A Battle of Wills
by Katelyn Mauntel
Summary: [AU of the Games We Play; One-Shot] Mary Stuart had tried to resist the pull between them. She was a queen, married, and he was her cousin's chief advisor. It was forbidden, but his haunting green eyes drew her in. After everything she had been through, he was the only one who understood her, the only one who could bring her the solace she so desperately needed.


**The beginning of this one-shot is actually part of chapter 16 of the Games We Play, so you get a little preview! This couple has been bugging me for awhile (there's a rant at the end of this one-shot). Enjoy!**

**A Battle of Wills**

With a gasp, Mary woke up and tried to calm her erratic breathing. It was only a dream; it wasn't real. Except, Mary knew that the dream of Francis being tortured was a memory that had already come to pass. Resigning herself to getting no more sleep at the moment, Mary found a blanket and wrapped it around herself before walking towards the end of her bedchamber. Sitting by the warmth of the fire, Mary let herself relax hoping that sleep would come to her sooner rather than later. Only two minutes had passed before her peace was interrupted and she realized that she was no longer alone.

"Elizabeth wants to go to war," Mary said.

Walsingham stepped out of the shadows, "She does. I hear that you disagree."

"Look at how much this war has cost me already. I will not lose anything else. They told us we were victors," Mary laughed.

"War always has a cost," he said, "Elizabeth hasn't lost anything yet."

"What do you think I should do?" she asked, staring into the flames.

"You know what's best for your country, your Grace. Rumors are starting to spread on why you haven't visited your husband yet. I have done all I can to counter them, but you should see him soon. I hear he has been asking for you," Walsingham said.

Looking at him, Mary couldn't stop the wave of disappointment when she heard the reason for his visit. Part of her had hoped that they would still be as close as they had been while travelling, but she should have known that was impossible. He was Walsingham, chief advisor to Elizabeth, and she was the Queen of Scotland, married to the dauphin of France. He had become her confidant and the grief she felt at losing him surprised her. It also made her angry to see that this change between them didn't affect him. His face was its customary blank mask and she hated it. It made her want to scream or throw something at him, anything, to get a reaction out of him. How could you miss someone who was right in front of you?

"I will visit him soon," she said, deciding to dismiss him before she did something she knew she would regret.

Instead of leaving, Walsingham moved so that he was standing in between her and the fireplace. "Why would a woman who would risk her life for her husband, going as far as killing someone, refuse to see him now that he is well?"

"That is none of your business," Mary said standing up, wrapping the blanket around her tightly.

"You made it my business when you accepted my services," Walsingham said as he took in her appearance.

Refusing to blush or show weakness, Mary stood her ground. She didn't want to talk about this with him. The pull that she felt towards him was strong and he gave no indication that the feeling was mutual. It should have relieved her as it removed the temptation, but it made her angry. Mary had tried to resist him; it had taken a constant effort on her part. He had been there for her since she had killed Philip, understood how it had changed her. He was older, wiser, and made an effort to protect her from danger. It was the thought of Francis that had stopped her from acting on her impulsive thoughts. Yet now that Francis was awake, Mary wanted nothing more than to forget her husband. Who knew what Francis would be like after being subjected to months and months of torture. Would she recognize her own husband? Was he still the same man after all this time? Those thoughts were too painful to consider.

His green eyes were daring her to make a move, trying to provoke her into reacting. It was a constant game between them, trying to see who would yield first. She couldn't look away from him, wasn't sure that she wanted to. Mary was tired of feeling alone, tired of having to be strong for others, and decided that she didn't care if Walsingham rejected her. Dropping her blanket, she stared at him defiantly, daring him to look away, to leave.

Walsingham couldn't hide the surprise in his green eyes when he realized that the Queen of Scotland was naked in front of him. A smirk appeared on her face for making him react first. As each minute passed, her smirk grew weaker until she could hold it no longer. This situation had started out competitively, but there was something serious about it. An eternity had passed, each one waiting for the other to make a move. Mary had dropped the blanket; she didn't want to make the first move. Her pride wouldn't allow it. Yet, she knew that Walsingham would never dare make the first move especially with their difference in station. His actions could result in an execution.

Mary didn't know who ended up making the first move, but suddenly his lips were on hers and a fire within her ignited. Her tongue gained entry to his mouth as his rough hands pulled her closer to him. Her naked body was pressed against his; his hard body making her forget herself, her surroundings. It had been far too long since she had felt the touch of a man and she moaned as she felt his erection pressing into her.

His hands grabbed her legs and she wrapped them around him as she left a trail of kisses on his neck. With a groan, he threw her onto the bed. Only a second passed before he joined her, but it was a second too long. Her body craved his touch, refused to be without it after waiting so long. Mary pulled him towards her, attacking his mouth with her own as he started to remove his breeches. Her throat ran dry as she felt him, she was so consumed with need.

Walsingham pulled away for a moment, "Are you sure, Mary?"

It was in that moment that Mary realized that this was more than a physical attraction. There was mutual respect between them, a friendship, and a bond that Mary could never share with anyone else. He understood what it meant to her to take Philip's life, understood that she was no longer the same girl who arrived in London months previously. Walsingham knew the darkness within her, like she knew the darkness in him. Mary knew that when tomorrow arrived, she would have to pretend like this had never happened. But in the darkness of the night, Mary's brown eyes met his and she kissed him fiercely leaving him no doubt of what her answer was. Tonight, she would have a moment of weakness, a moment of selfishness. Tomorrow, she would tend to her husband, but tonight, Walsingham was hers.

**I've been trying and failing to continue to write the Games We Play, because Mary and Walsingham refuse to leave me alone. This is going to sound odd, but they are adamant that there is something romantic between the two of them despite my best efforts to kill their sexual tension. **

**In Chapter 15, when Mary finally breaks down in front of Walsingham, those characters wanted, no pleaded for something sexual to happen between the two at the end of that scene. The chapter did feel incomplete without that moment between them, but I continued regardless because I have a plan for this story (that doesn't include Walsingham and Mary!) and Walsingham is trying to mess with it. Now in**** chapter 16, they are leading me down that road again. It's rather annoying so I'm hoping that by writing this one-shot, Mary and Walsingham will leave me alone and let me finish the story the way I have planned it. So the good news is that I am almost finished editing the Games We Play and I am currently in the middle of writing the next chapter. **

**I have no idea if anyone else is shipping Mary and Walsingham as hard as I am (which is kind of funny considering this is my own story), but hopefully this tides you over until chapter 16. If I get any requests for more Mary/Walsingham stories, I will probably write some more. **

**Thank you for listening to my rant (I'm seriously annoyed!) and I hoped that you enjoyed this scene. Let me know what you thought of it! **

**Kate xx**


End file.
